


A Gentleman's Guide To Gunnes

by BlackMorgan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Black Powder, Kink Meme, M/M, Mycroft-In-Lingerie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMorgan/pseuds/BlackMorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shameless foray into the <em>priming and loading</em> of antique weaponry which analogously examines just how Mycroft Holmes first managed to seduce a certain Scotland Yard DI into dating him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentleman's Guide To Gunnes

**Author's Note:**

> [Atlin Merrick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/pseuds/AtlinMerrick) posted [this pic](http://atlinmerrick.tumblr.com/post/47208207682/im-going-to-imagine-this-is-mycroft-or-mark) \- Warning, very NSFW!  
> [Solrosan](http://solrosan.tumblr.com/) asked for a wee fic. Atlin sent out the prompt and then this happened. 
> 
> The lovely [Shae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae/pseuds/Shae) has also translated this story into Russian which you can read [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10366950)

Greg licked his lips, unabashedly staring at the elegant, sateen-gloved hand curled about Mycroft’s lace clad cock.  “Why are you wearing those?”

 

Mycroft arched an impossibly sharp eyebrow. “Remember when I invited you down to Sussex, for the weekend?”

 

Greg started to flush a rather charming shade of crimson. “You asked if I’d like to try a bit of black powder.”

 

Mycroft grinned. ”Yes.” Then slowly, for emphasis, he began to stroke his cock, teasing out long pulls in perfect rhythm with his enunciation. “And how eager you were too, to take instruction in the priming and loading of a gentleman’s weapon.”

 

Greg felt himself harden at the memory, watching Mycroft thrust that damned ramrod repeatedly down the smooth barrel, every flicker of embarrassment plain on his face as he registered his host’s rather brazen invitation. And later, every cry of pleasure as Mycroft primed and loaded Greg, executing the task with equal precision.

 

“I believe you inquired why the musket ball must be wrapped in silk.”

 

At the word silk, Mycroft rolled his gloved thumb over the head of his cock, smearing his pre-come.

 

Greg bit back a groan. He was so hard now his syllables were faltering. “You said something about enhanced accuracy and performance.”

 

A dark stain was spreading along the fingers of the glove. “Precisely. You don't want the projectile bouncing around willy-nilly in the barrel during firing. That would require a miracle to hit anything.”

 

‘From memory,” Greg let his gaze follow the lurid motion, “you had a rather impressive aim.”

 

Mycroft stilled his hand, peeled off the glove and tossed it aside.

 

“Indeed.”

 

His now gloveless hand flicked open the top button and flies on Greg trousers.

  
“Though one ought not to become too complacent about such matters.” He slipped deft fingers inside, freeing Greg’s burgeoning erection. “I put great stock in the practice of perfecting one’s skills. And…” He pressed his lover’s chest gently towards the leather-covered bureau, “…firmly believe a gentleman must never neglect the proper care and handling of his weapon.”

 

Greg parted his thighs and pushed back into the hard heat behind him. Soft lace and gartered stockings brushed across his arse, framing the cock that was teasing him open.

 

“So what you’re saying is…”

 

Mycroft slicked himself up and slowly pushed in. 

 

Greg babbled, open mouthed and moaned, “Oh god that’s good!”

 

“What I am saying…”

 

Mycroft pulled back and angled his thrust hard home.

 

“…My good man…”

 

Another thrust.

 

“…Is that providing you are amenable…”

 

Greg was a heartbeat away from coming and had to scrabble at the edge of the desk to brace against something.

 

“…I would like to broaden the instruction to include…”

 

One final thrust.

 

“…Regular sessions.”

 

Before Greg could gather breath to answer, he was spurting all over that lovely leather topped bureau while Mycroft pounded to climax inside him.

 

When they had both recovered some semblance of coherence, Greg reached around to pat his lover’s thigh.

 

“I get Saturdays and every second Monday off, providing I’m not on a case, and your brother doesn’t go and do something idiotic to get everyone up in arms.”  He threw a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “Love you in lace by the way. Nice touch. I bet you’d look bloody gorgeous in crimson.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not quite sure how it ended up being an analogous commentary about muskets and flintlocks, but when it comes to the Holmes boys and their beaus, I guess anything can happen.


End file.
